From January - July 2010, we are roaming the Indian Subcontinent (and beyond, as it turned out)...

...during that period, this blog page is the temporary home of www.AwayAwhile.com.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Ladakh = Little Tibet

Ley was not "closed," of course. The day after our previous update we flew from Delhi to Leh, tucked deeply into the western Himalaya. It was a stunning flight-voyage...from the plains to a blindingly white crumpled mountainscape, ending in a high altitude valley.

And wow, what a change from India! Rosy cheeks, smiles smiles smiles, warm hearty authentic hello's (here in Ladakh: "joolay!" - conveniently, this same greeting also means goodbye, thank you, you're welcome, and how's it going). No beggars, no hassles. The people of this part of the world are ethnically Tibetan, and this is the heart of the region of Ladakh. It didn't feel like India at all. What's more, the heat and haze of the lowlands was swapped for brilliantly blue, sunny skies, and refreshingly cool weather.

Speaking of that weather, after exiting Nepal many weeks ago, we'd posted our shoes and all of our warm-weather gear to Leh, so that (a) we wouldn't have to lug it all over steaming northern India, and (b) we'd be equipped for the cold once more. A cunning plan. In theory. However, our f-ing package was lost by Indian Post. Snow-capped mountains all around, nippy weather...and us wearing flip-flops and t-shirts. This wasn't really ideal.

We persevered. And bought yak-wool socks (and me a pair of Chinese-made shoes that began to self-destruct within two days).

One of the first things we did was rent a motorcycle and tour up and down the Indus Valley. We chose a Yamaha over the more-romantic Enfield (having owned an Enfield seven years ago I knew full well that it's outward appeal is countered by a dismal tendency for breakdowns). The trip was fantastic: mountains, parched terrain, flowering apricot trees, people driving zhos (beasts of burden, like a cow-yak mix) through terraced fields...and gompas (Tibetan monasteries) perched on hilltops or burrowed against vertical hillsides. Tibet doesn't "do" monasteries that aren't spectacularly located it seems. Within those dimly-lit gompas, bright paintings of heaven and hell and dragons and bodhisattvas, gilded and cracked giant Buddhas, smoke and candles and drums and chanted prayers.

Meals were traditional - momos (stuffed dumplings), temok (steamed heavy dumplings), thukpa (heavy noodles in a soup)...if you haven't noticed, it's all various combinations of wheat noodles/dumplings/broth. Starchy, hearty stuff complemented by our stash of dried apricots and nuts.

Accommodation varied widely but was always interesting. One night we stayed with a monk at a monastery; most nights we stayed at simple family homestays, eating meals together with our hosts. Often we were offered a dozen cups of tea per day: milk tea, Kashmiri tea, (traditional) butter tea. Our "homes": red/white mud-brick structures, dirt floors, rustic kitchens/dining rooms with plates, pots, ladles, and neatly-stacked copper and brass pots. Animals housed in the lower section of the house. Cow pats (for fuel) drying atop walls, stacked/bundled hay lying on rooftops, ladders connecting the rabbit-warren structures within a family compound, Tibetan prayer flags hanging everywhere. Sleeping was on rug-covered thin mattresses that doubled as floor/sitting cushions during the day (not too clean), with dusty pillows and heavy duvets that you hoped were free of bedbugs.

It was very peaceful. Most nights, the silence was broken only by donkey bellows and the odd dog or rooster.

Other than the motorcycle trip, we did some hitchhiking (once with four monks) and several days of hiking through spectacular country in snow leopard country (but we saw neither them nor the elusive yeti). We helped one family flood their field in preparation for barley and vegetable planting. Tough life here: long hard winters with little contact with the outside world. Cut off by road from the rest of India for upwards of 2/3 of the year.

For the most part, we saw no tourists. It was great to meet so many genuine people, to trust and smile at them without having to wonder (as in the rest of India) how they were about to try to screw you over. The Ladakhi-Tibetan people won our hearts.

Our last stop during just over two weeks in the region was in the village of Lamayuru, a seemingly four-dimensional construct beneath a monastery that looked as if it were about to topple off an eroded hilltop. A vertical maze of crumbling homes, tangled stairways, mud and hay and steep footpaths.

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After a pair of nights in that final destination, we walked to the "highway" and waited for transport - heading West. We were cold, and it was time to descend a bit.

Our final thought on Ladakh...so yeah, the sloping dirt floor toilets weren't ideal, but as you're squatting over a concave, gaping hole below and trying not to fall in, you can at least look out a windowless opening and see 6000m+ snow-capped peaks.